The Blight of Muirwood
Page 32
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“Thank you,” he whispered, hanging his head and bending over, gulping air.
Lia’s breath was harsh in her ears as she hurried. She fished the bowstring out and fitted it around one tip, then pressed the bow into a tree root to flex it and fit the another end. After tying the empty sleeve to her girdle, she tested the string and was satisfied with the strength of the pull.
“Keep going, and try to be quiet,” she whispered back, walking this time and listening for sounds from those hunting them. Thoughts came quickly. If the pursuers separated to find them, it would increase the odds of being discovered, but reduce the numbers to their favor – two against one. If the pursuers were wise, they would comb the woods like a net, keeping within sight or whispering distance from each other.
A crackle from the woods on their left, caused her to slip an arrow from the quiver and swing the bow around, changing their course again. Were they seen, or was it an animal instead? The darkness made it difficult to see beyond much of the trees, the shadows smothering all movement. She could hear the soft crunch of Colvin’s boots and bit her lip. Hopefully the sound would not carry far and reveal them.
With the tangle of woods and their deliberate evasions, Lia quickly lost her sense of direction. She had never tried to find a particular tree in the dark. She could hear the sounds of pursuers in the distance. No one called to each other, just the steady, oppressive crunching and snorting of hooves as they dragged the horses into the woods to search.
“I need to use the orb again,” Lia whispered. “Help me shield the light.” She pulled her cloak tightly around and crouched down in the earth, setting down the bow. Colvin knelt in front of her, so close she could feel the heat coming off his face as it bent near hers. Cupping the orb in her hands, she willed it to guide them. The orb lit up, spindles turning slightly, and she saw it.
In the sprawl of oak trees surrounding Muirwood, a single tree dwarfed the rest. The oak was so massive that its lower limbs, each the size of a tree itself, bent low and rested on the ground, as if it were some multi-limbed giant so weary with age that it could only droop. The base of the trunk could be encircled by five or six people, linking hands all the way around it. And the upper branches were so twisted and long and vast that no other tree could grow within its shadow. When Martin had showed her the tree, he had said he had named it Sentinel, after the creature created in the dawn of the First Parents that guarded a sacred tree whose fruit granted immortality. The Sentinel oak was over a thousand years old, Martin said. It was part of the grounds of Muirwood. A part that few other than the Abbey hunters knew existed.
“This way,” Lia said, slipping the orb back into the pouch and took up the bow and nocked arrow. She knew the path now and went towards Sentinel, keeping within the woods surrounding it.
Lightning flashed in the sky, revealing movement in the trees, men in black tabards with swords drawn, skulking through the grove. Lia bit her lip, wondering if they had been seen. Myriad Ones began sniffing around them, drawn by their thoughts. A subtle whining sound filled Lia’s ears – she did not know if it was the keening of the wind or the smoke shapes shifting through the forest. Lia tugged at Colvin’s arm and kept moving.
On the far side of the Sentinel, she found the mark she was looking for. A shattered stump, long since razed by lightning and fire. From it, she marked the steps to a small gully, choking with scrub and swollen with churning water .
“Down there,” she whispered, putting the arrow back and kneeling by the edge. She handed him her bow to keep her hands free and slipped down into the chilly waters in the gully. The waters were icy and deeper this time. Normally the trickle would barely cover her feet. She reached up and motioned for the bow, which he handed to her and then slipped down into the water, gasping with the shock of cold. Carefully, she waded against the current a short distance and found the outcropping of a hunched tunnel, covered with brush.
She could feel the Leering inside it, emanating a feeling of warning. Even though she was used to it, even though she knew it was there, she could feel it throbbing against her mind, whispering of dangers and evil lurking inside the shadows. Parting the scrub, she poked inside with her bow, feeling nothing. The feelings only intensified. It was dangerous. It was a place of death. Gritting her teeth, she crouched and stepped inside, plunging into pure darkness. Her breath rattled in her mouth as she started shivering again. The tunnel Leering was tolerable during the daylight, but at night, it made her afraid, even though she knew it was controlling her emotions.
Reaching out, she crept forward into the small cave until her hand was stopped by the cool, rough stone of the Leering to quell its warning.
Lia’s breath was harsh in her ears as she hurried. She fished the bowstring out and fitted it around one tip, then pressed the bow into a tree root to flex it and fit the another end. After tying the empty sleeve to her girdle, she tested the string and was satisfied with the strength of the pull.
“Keep going, and try to be quiet,” she whispered back, walking this time and listening for sounds from those hunting them. Thoughts came quickly. If the pursuers separated to find them, it would increase the odds of being discovered, but reduce the numbers to their favor – two against one. If the pursuers were wise, they would comb the woods like a net, keeping within sight or whispering distance from each other.
A crackle from the woods on their left, caused her to slip an arrow from the quiver and swing the bow around, changing their course again. Were they seen, or was it an animal instead? The darkness made it difficult to see beyond much of the trees, the shadows smothering all movement. She could hear the soft crunch of Colvin’s boots and bit her lip. Hopefully the sound would not carry far and reveal them.
With the tangle of woods and their deliberate evasions, Lia quickly lost her sense of direction. She had never tried to find a particular tree in the dark. She could hear the sounds of pursuers in the distance. No one called to each other, just the steady, oppressive crunching and snorting of hooves as they dragged the horses into the woods to search.
“I need to use the orb again,” Lia whispered. “Help me shield the light.” She pulled her cloak tightly around and crouched down in the earth, setting down the bow. Colvin knelt in front of her, so close she could feel the heat coming off his face as it bent near hers. Cupping the orb in her hands, she willed it to guide them. The orb lit up, spindles turning slightly, and she saw it.
In the sprawl of oak trees surrounding Muirwood, a single tree dwarfed the rest. The oak was so massive that its lower limbs, each the size of a tree itself, bent low and rested on the ground, as if it were some multi-limbed giant so weary with age that it could only droop. The base of the trunk could be encircled by five or six people, linking hands all the way around it. And the upper branches were so twisted and long and vast that no other tree could grow within its shadow. When Martin had showed her the tree, he had said he had named it Sentinel, after the creature created in the dawn of the First Parents that guarded a sacred tree whose fruit granted immortality. The Sentinel oak was over a thousand years old, Martin said. It was part of the grounds of Muirwood. A part that few other than the Abbey hunters knew existed.
“This way,” Lia said, slipping the orb back into the pouch and took up the bow and nocked arrow. She knew the path now and went towards Sentinel, keeping within the woods surrounding it.
Lightning flashed in the sky, revealing movement in the trees, men in black tabards with swords drawn, skulking through the grove. Lia bit her lip, wondering if they had been seen. Myriad Ones began sniffing around them, drawn by their thoughts. A subtle whining sound filled Lia’s ears – she did not know if it was the keening of the wind or the smoke shapes shifting through the forest. Lia tugged at Colvin’s arm and kept moving.
On the far side of the Sentinel, she found the mark she was looking for. A shattered stump, long since razed by lightning and fire. From it, she marked the steps to a small gully, choking with scrub and swollen with churning water .
“Down there,” she whispered, putting the arrow back and kneeling by the edge. She handed him her bow to keep her hands free and slipped down into the chilly waters in the gully. The waters were icy and deeper this time. Normally the trickle would barely cover her feet. She reached up and motioned for the bow, which he handed to her and then slipped down into the water, gasping with the shock of cold. Carefully, she waded against the current a short distance and found the outcropping of a hunched tunnel, covered with brush.
She could feel the Leering inside it, emanating a feeling of warning. Even though she was used to it, even though she knew it was there, she could feel it throbbing against her mind, whispering of dangers and evil lurking inside the shadows. Parting the scrub, she poked inside with her bow, feeling nothing. The feelings only intensified. It was dangerous. It was a place of death. Gritting her teeth, she crouched and stepped inside, plunging into pure darkness. Her breath rattled in her mouth as she started shivering again. The tunnel Leering was tolerable during the daylight, but at night, it made her afraid, even though she knew it was controlling her emotions.
Reaching out, she crept forward into the small cave until her hand was stopped by the cool, rough stone of the Leering to quell its warning.
